


Hope

by scorpionmother



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionmother/pseuds/scorpionmother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve at Grandage Place where Ethan considers what and who he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwoForATable (AliSimAlice)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliSimAlice/gifts), [OerbaIzalith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OerbaIzalith/gifts).



It feels as if he is frozen in time and in fact he supposes that he is. Those seconds in between two years as the clock strikes.   
That last nodding gesture to the old year whilst the new is heralded in, full of hope. Caress the old and what was with loving fingertips as it drifts so quietly out of sight and kiss softly in the new with open, eager lips and what might be.

He watches all of them. The cruel, the lost, the disappointed and yet they move him in a way that no others ever have. A family of sorts formed by need and chosen on his part from the abused and disaffected to fill that need. 

The doctor, his addiction to drugs and death stretching him thin causing the bloom of purple bruises under his cold, colourless eyes plagued with secrets that have begun to turn more often to his own in secret yearning. He is not adverse to their pull and in another time would have enjoyed the seductive thrill of initiating one of such beauty and innocence, one so pure and untouched into the pleasures of the flesh. He would be a sweet fruit to pick, to pluck from the virginal vine although he knows that he would not fall quickly or easily which arouses him more than he’d care to admit. A man of science would know too much of the mechanics to succumb without trepidation and yet the romantic in him glutted on a diet of poetry and prose would yearn for the dominant touch of one who understands how to give the pleasure and pain he knows he aches for and yet will never find under him.

But as the last vestiges of the year fade with the final strike of the clock his eyes are as always drawn to another. Wraith slender draped in midnight hues with skin the colour of alabaster. Winter blue eyes warm in their observance of him a faint smile staining her lips. He is helpless in her gaze captivated by her stern and almost unobtainable beauty. She is all angles and edges there is no softness in her form and yet she is still undeniably female. Her vulnerability is a siren call for him to protect her and yet her strength challenges him and he longs to break her, to hear her sighs of submission extracted under the pressure of his body, of his lips and fingers.

She drifts towards him holding a glass of tawny liquid placing her body a pulse closer than is appropriate. He draws her scent into him storm wild and fresh, her warm breath laced with the brandy she favours. Silently she offers him the glass that he takes, raising it to his lips and takes a deep swallow of the burning liquid before handing it back to her. Holding his gaze, deliberately she turns the glass and places her lips to the exact place his were moments before. The intimacy of the gesture causes his breath to catch in his throat and his body to respond to the unspoken invitation. 

In defiance of convention he reaches forward capturing her chin in between his fore finger and thumb tipping her pale face up to his. With lingering slowness he lowers his face down until his breath is hot against her lips.

“Happy New Year Miss Ives.” He whispers against her mouth.

“Happy New Year Mr Chandler.” As her lips meet his. 

He knows that it is meant to be fleeting, an offering, a suggestion. But he is equal to the challenge and will not accept any misunderstanding. As she draws away he tightens his grip pressing his hot mouth with masculine purpose against hers and as it opens under his, sweeps just the tip of his tongue like a brand over the sweetness of her lower lip eliciting the merest hum of a moan. 

His intent is clear and as he pulls back in her eyes he sees her understanding. The first two steps of the dance initiated by herself have been precisely and accurately executed, whether she takes the final step to complete the pattern he cannot be sure. She has never been easy to read and he would never want her to be.

In the company he keeps he can never know what any day or night might bring but he has learnt to hope. And is not New Year the time to hope?

**Author's Note:**

> A little New Year's romantic drabble which I gift to my two dear friends but which I hope others will enjoy. I wish all of you great happiness and hope all your dreams come true this year xx


End file.
